Oh, the Christmas Dinners!
by Lifeuniverseeverything42
Summary: Yes, I know it's not Christmas any more, but this is something I promised to write, my take on a prompt I gave to RainyDays-and-DayDreams, "Christmas Dinners with the Holmes-Watsons" Hope you enjoy, pls read and review, and take a look at RainyDays-and-DayDreams version :)
1. Christmas Eve

"John."

"Yes Sherlock?"

"My experiments have gone."

"Yes Sherlock."

"WHY?!"

"Because tomorrow is Christmas Day, and the world and his wife are coming for lunch. I need the table."

"No."

"No what, Sherlock?"

"John, please don't put me through this again! It was bad enough last year!"

"It was only my parents last year!"

"And I could tell how much they disapproved of me! They were nothing like you."

"How so?" John continued to busy himself in the kitchen, laying out all the packets and cardboard casings of every single Christmas dinner item. He did this every year since he met Sherlock, because unless there was a plan for cooking, Sherlock would get either agitated or distracted and Christmas Dinner would be reduced to sandwiches from the local.

"They're just...nothing at all like you."

"You're going to need to elaborate, love."

"Well-"

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, look!"

Their young son Hamish ran into the kitchen waving a crumpled pamphlet, followed by his nine-year-old sister Amy.

"Dad, Hamish wants to go see Santa at the toy store." Amy explained, still reading the thick paperback – Lord of the Rings – which she was carrying.

John swung Hamish up into the air "Let's have a look then son." Hamish held tightly onto his daddy as John read the pamphlet

"Sherlock, love, can you ring the toy store? They've got extra spaces to see Santa this evening."

"Do we ha-"

"Yes, we have to. Hamish and I want to go see Santa, don't we little man?"

Hamish nodded emphatically, wriggling out of John's arms to oversee Sherlock's task of phoning the toy store, whilst John recruited Amy to assist with the mammoth task of organising the Christmas food.


	2. Santa

"Hey look Hamish, there's Santa's Grotto!" John pointed to the brightly coloured structure in the middle of the store. Hamish sat on his father's shoulders, holding tightly to Sherlock's curls with one hand and John's hand with the other. This was his first time meeting Santa, and he wanted to make a good impression.

The surly looking assistant dressed as an elf looked the family up and down. Amy still held her paperback, which John motioned her to put away now they were here.

"Name." The bored looking elf looked as though he would rather be anywhere but dressed as an elf in a mall where all his friends would see him, on Christmas Eve.

"Holmes-Watson"

"Go in."

"Thank you. Merry Christmas!" John always made a point of being nice to anyone who was rude to him – he said it showed them up, and maybe they'd be nicer to the next person in the queue.

The family trooped into the grotto, Hamish squealing in delight at the pretty decorations, and Amy trying to surreptitiously read her book without her dads noticing.

"Ho ho ho! Hello Hamish! Are these your daddies? And your older sister?"

"Mmm..." Hamish suddenly went all shy, so John answered for him.

"Yes. I'm John; this is Sherlock, and our daughter Amy."

"And have you been a good little boy this year?"

Hearing his Daddy speaking to Santa made Hamish less nervous, so he smiled and nodded. "Think so." he said quietly.

"'Course you have Hamish!" said Sherlock. He was getting into this whole 'meeting Santa' thing now.

Hamish giggled, and Santa said "So, what would you like for Christmas Hamish?"

"Mmm...A tractor, and a farm, and a digger and a crane. Mmm...Yep. And a giraffe."

"And a giraffe! Goodness me! I'll try very hard to get you what you'd like. Would a cuddly giraffe be alright?"

"Mmm...Yep!"

"Well, your Daddies and I will try very, very hard to make all your Christmas Wishes come true. What do you think your Daddies and Amy would like for Christmas?"

"Father wants more cases, Daddy wants more tea and less people parts in the fridge, and Amy wants me to be quiet when she's reading. Daddy also wants a new kettle. There were eyes in the old one."

Santa looked slightly worried by all this, and John, Sherlock and Amy looked at each other rather awkwardly.

"What he means is-well, you see...I'm a consulting detective, so..."

"Oh...I see..." Santa didn't look as if he really saw at all, but quickly switched back to Santa mode.

"So, Hamish, would you like to pick a present from the blue box over there?"

"Mmm...Yep. Please." He added after a look from his Father.

He scrambled off Santa's knee, and over to the box of presents. He picked out one with digger wrapping paper, and tore it open at a nod from his Daddy. Inside was a shiny plastic yellow digger.

"Oooh! Thank you Santa! Look, Daddy, Father, Amy, it's a digger!"

"As though you didn't have enough already..." Amy said under her breath.

"Amy. Be nice. That's lovely Hamish!" Said Sherlock, shooting his daughter a glance every child understands.

The Holmes-Watsons collected a commemorative copy of 'The night before Christmas' with their family photo with Santa stuck in the front, and walked back to the flat, a sleepy Hamish carried by Sherlock, the similarly tired Amy leaning against John all the way.


	3. Present Time!

"Daddy! Father! Wake up, It's Christmas! Santa's been, there are presents and fake snow and chocolate, and...Daddy, where is Father?"

"Bathroom, Hamish. He'll be back soon, then we'll do presents, ok?"

Hamish wriggled under the covers next to John, who wrapped him in a hug. "Looking forward to it?"

"Yep! I've already got a digger, and everything, and it said on the weather that it's going to snow, and...yep!"

The hyper five-year-old started jumping on the bed, just as Sherlock came back into the bedroom.  
"I see our little monster is up and about bright and early. Why up so early son?"

"It's Christmas!"

"I don't think it is you know. Christmas? Today? Nooo."

Hamish looked crestfallen, before he realised that his Father was only teasing him.

"Father!" He launched himself at Sherlock who caught him, and carried him into the main room, followed by John.

Amy was already sat by the tree, and the rest of the family sat down around her.

"Me first, please Daddy!" Hamish looked pleadingly at John.

"Oooh...go on then. Find one with your name on."

Hamish found a medium sized box, taped up perfectly – definitely Sherlock's doing, with co ordinate wrap and ribbon (now that, was John). He tore off the paper to discover a set of plastic farm animals."

"Look Daddy, Father!"

"That's great Hamish! Now you have even more animals for your collection!"

The present opening continued. Amy had the full set of anniversary edition Harry Potter books, some clothes vouchers, pens, notebooks and other various books. Hamish had an entire toy farm, with a railway track to go around the outside of it, a toy crane and cement mixer to go with his new digger.

"I don't have a giraffe though." said Hamish. He loved all his presents, and was very grateful, but he had wanted a giraffe for such a long time.

"Well never mind, shall we set up your farm?" Said John, winking at Sherlock. Hamish would get his Giraffe; he'd just have to wait a tiny bit longer.


	4. Daddy & Father's Presents

As the children played and read, Sherlock and John swapped gifts in their bedroom.

John gave Sherlock some new shirts, sheet music for his violin, and a new (very expensive) watch. Sherlock gave John a new jumper, briefcase for his surgery notes, and a new bottle of his favourite aftershave. Sherlock's last gift to John was a very strange shape, and he looked slightly nervous as John opened it.

"I know you've only just got a new one, but I bought this a while ago, and-"

"Sherlock, it's amazing!"

John had unwrapped a beautiful stethoscope, engraved with his name, rank and army I.D. number. This was no longer just a functionally useful item, but a beautiful gift.

"Thank you, Sherlock." John said quietly. He leant over their presents lying on the bed and kissed his husband.

"I love you, John."

"You too, Sherlock. Merry Christmas."


End file.
